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<title>The (Willingly Sacrificed) Eye of the Heart (Of The Gallows' God) by Halja</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29118453">The (Willingly Sacrificed) Eye of the Heart (Of The Gallows' God)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halja/pseuds/Halja'>Halja</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>#BTB 2020 Fills [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Attila's Treasure - Stephan Grundy, Rhinegold - Stephan Grundy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(sort of), Alternate Universe - Fusion, Boris (TV Italy) - Freeform, Boris AU, Boris La Fuoriserie Italiana, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossovers &amp; Fandom Fusions, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Light Angst, Sex Jokes, Slut-Shaming Jokes, Vulgar Jokes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:54:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,452</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29118453</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halja/pseuds/Halja</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ragin is tired, surrounded by idiots and demanding starlets, and working on a series he loathes. Thankfully (?), his brother is there.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ragin &amp; Otter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>#BTB 2020 Fills [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2249289</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Banned Together Bingo 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The (Willingly Sacrificed) Eye of the Heart (Of The Gallows' God)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for Banned Together Bingo. Prompt: Vulgar Vulgar Vulgar. Based on the most hilarious, vulgar, and hilariously vulgar Italian tv series ever.</p><p>https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boris_(TV_series)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>«Ragin, I don’t <em>feel </em>the Danube.»</p><p>Ragin bit back a sigh as each individual letter of the word <em>feel </em>dragged out of Hagan’s mouth. <em>Shit. </em>The whole script was horseshit, setting up the scene had already been one long, lengthy mess, and now the boy was actually attempting to put <em>emphasis</em> on words to pretend he knew what a <em>tone of voice </em>was.</p><p>Not that <em>that</em> wouldn’t have been <em>helpful,</em> if he ever did it while acting. But no, no, like every other fucking actor on this godsdamned set, the little shit went and put any and all the effort into <em>complaining. </em>And of-fucking-course, he complained about inane shit.</p><p>«That’s because it’s the Rhine, Hagan,» Ragin said through gritted teeth. «We are <em>pretending </em>it’s the Danube because in this scene you look off into the distance towards the Danube while giving a <em>heartfelt speech </em>about how very genuine and emotionally open the people living on the Danube’s banks are despite the many military conflicts and political tensions running along the length of <em>the Danube.</em>» Not for the first time that day, he felt a little spurt of bile rising up his throat and pointedly avoided questioning his life choices. «And we both know that’s going to be mind-numbingly boring to watch <em>and</em> to film, so you might as well stop questioning <em>what river this is</em> and start trying to put some emotion into the sappy tirade to make it at least somewhat bearable.»</p><p>A vain hope, he knew. Hagan definitely wasn’t on set thanks to his acting chops or even because he truly wanted to be there, but had been pushed into the role as a publicity stunt, because his alleged father was both well-connected and well on his way to become a big shot in both business and politics and his mother was hel-bent on grooming the legitimate firstborn into a worthy heir and finding a rich fiancé for the girl, but hadn’t really figured out what to do with the weird, unsociable, blatantly illegitimate youngest kid yet… so she had grabbed the first occasion to put his looks to some use and hopefully shift his reputation from <em>unnervingly quiet asshole with a permanent Resting Bitch Face </em>to something like <em>intense, brooding young heartthrob </em>in the process<em>. </em>And alright, he supposed the younger side of their female audience – as well as part of the older side, it seemed – did find the deathly pallor and the cold, unblinking stares and the whole <em>I haven’t gotten a wink of sleep in three days </em>look rather swoon-worthy, but that didn’t make it any easier to work with an actor who wasn’t an actor and couldn’t bring much to the table except all the depth of feeling and subtle expressivity of a block of solid stone that just happened to be shaped like a slim, athletic six-footer with broad shoulders and fine features.</p><p>Said block of stone was <em>still</em> looking at him with a frown that he was pretty sure was supposed to convey disapproval or stubbornness or something like that, but it wasn’t all that different from Hagan’s default frown so it was kind of hard to tell. Ragin motioned for him to keep making his headache worse anyway.</p><p>«The Rhine is male. The Danube is female,» said Hagan. At his blank stare, which actually meant <em>what the actual fuck are you talking about now and why the fuck can’t I ever work with normal fucking people</em>, he added: «You know what they say. Father Rhine, Mother Danu. They have different energies.»</p><p>There was a moment of tense silence between them.</p><p>«… so what, should we ask for a permission to pour pink dye in the water? Maybe place some cute, fluffy baby rabbits on the riverbank? I don’t know, do you want me to make the water run slower so it can look all mild and gentle and <em>motherly?!</em>»</p><p>This time it was a scowl rather than some barely-there microexpression, and Ragin did feel a little grateful for that. And a little more irritated at himself than usual. Yeah, he didn’t believe in all that crap either. And he should have known those stereotypes were probably <em>not </em>what a guy with a mother like <em>Grimhild</em> would be trying to get at. But how was he supposed to portray male and female energy in <em>fucking rivers,</em> anyway? <em>There aren’t that many fucking options, kid, </em>he thought, crossing his arms on his chest.</p><p>Hagan shook his head and relaxed into a more neutral hostile expression, obviously giving up on trying to explain aquatic spiritual sexual dimorphism – or whatever the fuck it was – because Ragin just wouldn’t get it. Thank the gods. «That’s not the only thing that feels wrong, though. The Danube is.» The boy started again and paused, like he was fishing for the right words to make him understand. «Complex.»</p><p>To his credit, Ragin did try listening to him, before he eventually tuned him out somewhere around the middle of the rant on tributary streams and their different personalities. After that, he just listened to his own increasingly frustrated thoughts about how much fucking time they were wasting, and to the little voice in his head that often encouraged him to quit everything, take to the woods, find himself a nice, deep, dark cave, and hopefully never see another fucking human being ever again.</p><p>The little voice had been growing stronger, lately.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>«You know, I think I <em>might</em> have an idea of how to do whatever the fuck he wanted to do. Yeah… just give me some time to reorganize the lightning for the scene.»</p><p>Ragin could have replied, <em>please explain his fucking thought process to me if you actually understand it, I’m begging you.  </em>Or, <em>having two guys with some weird obsession for rivers on set does have some advantages, after all – can you communicate with him in some way so I don’t have to? </em>Instead, he didn’t look up from his beer and said, without a trace of irony in his tone: «Oh, I had forgotten you <em>were</em> there. Thought this was one of those days where you ditched us for some fucking fishing trip.»</p><p>Otter sat down next to him, unperturbed as always. «No, that was two days ago. Remember? I sold some of the fish to Saganova’s grandma yesterday. Came round to help her girl with the finishing touches on the embroidered gown and the ceremonial crown for the big, definitely not preposterous, <em>The Sassy Iron Queen Ascends To The Throne After All</em> scene, you know. Brought her homemade khumiss, too. It’s always a bit too strong, but…»</p><p>Ragin tightened his grip on the bottle’s neck. <em>Why </em>the fuck did he put up with him, again? He jerked up his head and stared at Otter’s smirk. Which did not disappear, but actually widened a little.</p><p>«Come on. You hate this job, and I don’t care about it,» said Otter. «You’re just jealous because <em>not caring</em> means I can actually fuck off to get some peace of mind every once in a while.»</p><p>There was an invitation there, under all the careless but all-too-truthful teasing, and Ragin did not allow himself to take it. Part of him was afraid it would turn out to be addicting, and part of him that it would be… too close to how it used to be. When they were all together, and dad was alive, and no wills or thefts had come between any of them yet. Otter shrugged off his silence and produced some fried fish and another beer from seemingly out of nowhere. For a while, they just ate and drank together.</p><p>Then, his brother said: «You must have been <em>so</em> pissed-off, to blow up in your assistant’s assistant’s face like that. It was hilarious.»</p><p>Ragin chocked on a bite of fish, and Otter laughed. When they both calmed down – for lack of a better word, because Otter was still chuckling and <em>he</em> didn’t feel calm at all – Ragin said: «I <em>barely</em> manage to get out of some idiotic discussion on <em>the personalities of European rivers</em> without yelling at my whole cast to go get fucked in the ass by every single river-ghost in the Rhine, and Waldhari thinks that right after <em>that </em>is the best moment to act like the insufferable smart-ass he is?! The best moment for his shitty puns and his shittier <em>semantics?!</em>»</p><p>«Yeah, he’d probably be funnier if he wasn’t utter shit at timing… or maybe not. How many death glares did you get from Hildegund, by the way?»</p><p>Hildegund wasn’t just one of the most competent people on set, but one of the very, very few <em>professional</em> people he had the pleasure to work with and, generally, a blessing disguised as an assistant director. Too bad for her taste in men. «Just three for now, but the day is still young.» Ragin washed down his grimace with a long, thoughtful sip of beer. «Gods, why does she <em>have</em> to have some dumb, unspoken, <em>puppy love</em> crush on the new guy? Can’t she just shag Attila? I’ve seen her <em>looking!</em>»</p><p>«Guess she stopped when the<em> award-winning, consummate actor with plenty of life and action movies experience</em> charm failed and the <em>male starlet in decline taking any shitty role in any godsawful soap opera</em> midlife crisis reared its ugly head again. Really. A guy falls off a horse once, proving that <em>maybe</em> he should have let a stuntman handle that scene rather than insisting so much on doing it on his own, and suddenly it matters if the silver fox also has silver fur on his…»</p><p>«Do <em>not</em> make me think about Attila’s dick. I’m warning you.»</p><p>Did his brother never stop smirking? Fuck’s sake, there was an actual <em>twinkle</em> in his eyes. «What? Afraid you’ll like it?»</p><p>«Afraid this is the day you and this stupid job actually kill me, more like.»</p><p>«Alright, alright. I won’t even ask if you want in on the betting pool, then. But don’t expect me to share if I win anything.»</p><p>«You’re betting over Attila’s sex life?»</p><p>«Of course not. Honestly, you should trust your crew to have more class. It would probably help your work relationships.» Ragin raised an eyebrow, and Otter ate another bit of fish. Then, he clarified: «We’re betting on whether he dyes his hair down there, too.»</p><p>And then, Ragin was straight-up suffocating. Otter had to slap his back until he could breathe again. «It’s nice to hear you laugh,» he said lightly, after.</p><p>Ragin flipped him off as he blinked tears away, but he didn’t try to shrug off the hand that was currently rubbing his trembling shoulders. They <em>looked</em> at each other and quietly agreed to stop talking until they finished their meal. It was rather peaceful, except for the occasional cough or muffled snort of laughter. The fried fish <em>was</em> good, and so was the beer. But of course, the quiet couldn’t last longer than either of them.</p><p>«Lofanohaith wants you there when we pick up the old Sunday Family Dinners tradition again, you know.»</p><p>Ragin froze. «I know,» he replied as he shrugged the chill off. He focused on trying to suck out the last few drops left on the bottom of his bottle. The bloody little bastards were being stubborn.</p><p>«Lingwohaith doesn’t. Want you, I mean. She <em>does</em> know, and she can do shit about it.» Otter might have smirked again, but he wasn’t looking. He was slapping the bottle. «Sometimes, dear little Lof scares even me.»</p><p>Horseshit. Otter had never been afraid of anything in his life. Not of his boat capsizing when the wind grew restless and the water dangerous, not of any storms on the river, nor of Fadhmir’s quick fists during their childhood brawls or his unexpectedly quick mind when they’d grown up. Not even of Ragin’s own glares and growled swears as he cooped himself up in his dimly-lit room with some book on the bloody <em>Craft of Cinematography</em> and made it abundantly clear, in his snotty teenage way, that he did <em>not</em> want to be disturbed.</p><p>Otter was always there, just looking at him with his bright, mocking eyes. Waiting patiently or coaxing his nastiest comments on the author’s blatantly flawed, shitty opinions out of him and then declaring that Ragin had had enough time to play the hermit already, dragging him out into the sun, laughing at him for being a nerd even as he still held his hand. Making him forget whatever Fadhmir had said that day in the blink of eye, because he was just so fucking frustrating and <em>so</em> fucking irresistible, too much to focus on anything else. He was his brilliant little brother, full of life as he was full of shit – the one person in the family every one of them had always loved, still did, always would.</p><p>Ragin could have said no, each and every single time. He never did.</p><p>He shook his head. «What about Fadhmir? Will he be there, too?» he asked.</p><p>«Sure. If Lof’s worried about <em>you</em> becoming even more of a reclusive misanthrope, you really think she wouldn’t be worried about <em>him</em> becoming even more of a crook?» Otter laughed, damn him and his shitty sense of humor. «Even big media execs don’t get to treat their brothers like shit and <em>then </em>try their best to fuck up the projects they’re working on without getting bullied by their little sisters in return. No matter how many pretty young actresses suck them dry every day.»</p><p>Ragin’s neck and shoulders had gone too stiff to try and figure out whether there was anything at all convincing about those last statements. «Don’t be an idiot. We didn’t replace Sigilind with Brunichild because she gave him a blowjob. It’s clear she’d just rip his balls off with her teeth instead. We replaced Sigilind with her because the money-hoarding <em>worm</em> is absolutely <em>desperate</em> for Miss Long Toned Shieldmaiden Legs to give him a blowjob,» he explained absent-mindedly.</p><p>Otter grinned. «I did feel the reincarnation plotline was a tad rushed.» He put a hand on his neck, and Ragin leaned into the warmth of it despite himself as it started rubbing soothing circles on his skin.</p><p>«She’s going to suddenly remember how things <em>really</em> went down and sick her lawyers on you, if you don’t come.»</p><p>Ragin sighed. «Did she really say that?»</p><p>The hand stilled. «I will admit it, it’s just an educated guess. But are you really gonna take any fucking chances?»</p><p>«Will you be there, too?» The words tumbled out of Ragin’s mouth before he even thought them.</p><p>«Of course.»</p><p>So, that was settled, then. The hand started moving again, and Ragin closed his eyes and relaxed at last.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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